I'll Say I'm Sorry Now
by alien09
Summary: Ensemble with Bones and NCIS. Brennan copes with the aftermath of Booth's shooting with some help. Please see Author's Note. Stay tuned for the sequel.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: I'm baaack! This is the sequel to 'Red Shoes' so if you haven't read that yet, I strongly recommend you do otherwise this isn't going to make much sense. Or maybe it will. Who knows.**

**This takes place at the end of season 3, post 'Wannabe In The Weeds.' Enjoy!**

If she sat and looked at her hands long enough, Brennan thought she could still feel his blood pumping through her fingers. Squeezing her eyes shut, the forensic anthropologist tried to block out the lingering smell of antiseptic and the murmurs of Angela and Hodgins seated in the waiting room with her.

_Oh God. What if he's dead?_

Brennan almost laughed at that. The idea that Booth wouldn't be there beside her, wouldn't be there to smile, laugh, kiss, touch – it was ridiculous.

_The paramedic said there was a good chance of survival. The bullet missed his heart and just nicked an artery. She said it would be okay, that the doctor could just sew him back up._

'Tempe?' Tony's voice broke through her self-imposed bubble. Brennan raised her head, noticing that none of the Jeffersonian team were there with her anymore. Vaguely, she thought she remembered Angela telling her something about getting coffee.

'Tony.' Her voice sounded ragged, hoarse. Her friend furrowed his brow, easing down on the chair beside her.

'What happened? I got your message but you were kinda…' Tony trailed off, taking in her red rimmed eyes and tear streaked face.

Brennan was surprised he was able to decipher her voice mail. She had been practically in hysterics when she had called Tony, thoughts scattered and voice rambling and thick with anxiety and something else.

'It's Booth,' she managed to choke out. 'We…we were at the Checkerbox. I told him about Cyndi Lauper and he wanted to hear me. I was singing and he was bouncing and then she shot him Tony. _Pam shot him_! And he was on the ground, and there was just blood _everywhere_ and I didn't know who to call. I apologize if I interrupted-'

'Hey, hey. Slow down,' Tony murmured, placing his hand between her neck and shoulder. The warmth from his palm soothed her somewhat, have her frayed nerves something to latch onto to.

'Temperance,' Ziva started but fell silent when she saw Brennan. The Israeli, Brennan could tell, hated hospitals just as much as she did. Ziva's discomfort manifested itself very subtly – every once in a while, she would reach for the Star of David pendant hanging around her neck.

'It's Booth,' she heard Tony say. Ziva met his eyes briefly before nodding her head. 'Did you manage to not run over a little old lady when you parked the car?'

Ziva glared at him.

'Have you heard anything?' Ziva asked her, taking the chair on her other side. The Mossad liaison tentatively touched her hand. Brennan squeezed it in response.

'He's been in surgery since we got here. No one's told me anything despite my rather…forceful requests.'

Tony tried to hide the snort that erupted upon hearing her words. Ignoring the dark look Brennan sent his way, the Italian rose to his feet. 'Well, let me flash my badge around and use of the ol' DiNozzo charm,' he said with an exaggerated wink, disappearing down the hallway towards the desk.

'Are you alright, my friend?' Ziva's quiet question wriggled through the gaping cracks in her wall.

Brennan lifted her eyes, finding herself reflected in a pair of dark brown orbs.

'He jumped in front of that bullet to save me Ziva,' Brennan whispered. 'That bullet shouldn't have…I should be the one in there, not Booth.'

'Agent Booth did his job Temperance. You know that as well as I do.' Ziva held up a hand to stop the objection she must have known Brennan was going to voice. 'But most important of all, he did it because he loved you.'

_The man I love could be dying because of me._

Before she could stop herself, the memories from the past year assaulted her. Their relationship had remained a secret, the worst well-kept secret in the Bureau and Jeffersonian according to Booth. Angela, of course, had known the instant she had seen Brennan and Booth after that fateful kiss in her office. Her best friend had squelched the urge to confront Brennan until after the case. Hodgins and Cam simply gave them knowing looks, while Zach…

Brennan had noticed a change in her protégé's demeanor since his return from Iraq. The Zach before had been reticent with his emotions, yes. But one could always sense the underlying warmth and innocence emanating from the young doctor. That was gone now, much to Brennan's disappointment. The Zach that had returned from the Middle East was more cold, more clinical and detached. While before Brennan would have championed such a change, now she regarded it with a sense of loss. The hardened man with shadows lurking behind his eyes made Brennan wish she could turn back time.

Booth had listened to her of course. Late at night when it was just the two of them, her head resting on his heart, his fingers tunneling through her hair, he would listen as she spoke of her concern. Booth had simply said war changes people. Not wanting to start a fight, Brennan had simply stopped speaking about it.

But Temperance and Seeley had become something that Brennan never thought she would ever find. The contentment and inner peace that being with Booth brought was new and exciting, feelings which she never thought would ever visit her door. The past year had passed by so quickly that Brennan was shocked to discover herself realizing that their one year anniversary would soon be upon them. Angela had laughed, telling her that that's what being in love was like.

Brennan smiled to herself, summoning up the first official date they had had.

**Brennan looked down at the floaty dark blue dress she had on and glanced back at her boyfriend. **

'**When you told me to dress up, I assumed that we would be going somewhere more…appropriate,' she told him, watching as he punched in the pin to unlock the door to the Planetarium in the Jeffersonian.**

'**Bones, that dress is totally appropriate for the gourmet cooking I've got hidden in here,' Booth retorted, holding up the picnic basket and shaking it gently.**

'**I have pins jabbing into my skull Booth.'**

'**It's **_**Seeley**_** remember? That was one of my rules.'**

'**You are insufferable.'**

'**Hey, I got the girl didn't I?' Booth remarked with a cheeky grin, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her along towards the large control panel that curved along the front of the room. **

'**How did you manage to secure access to this room after hours?' Brennan enquired.**

'**Knowing the owner of the Cantilever Group has its perks,' Booth responded, giving her a quick wink before glancing down quizzically at the rows of buttons and switches laid out in front of them. 'Now, Angela said that all I had to do was-'**

'**Hodgins **_**and **_**Angela?' Brennan couldn't help but raise her voice. 'I thought we decided to keep this on the down near the ground!'**

'**Bones, I'm trying to concentrate here. Let's tone it down so I can-'**

**Brennan let out a noise of exasperation. 'If we're following your rules, why are you still referring to me as Bones?' Nudging Booth to the side, Brennan confidently flicked a switch and pressed the red button to its right. Suddenly, the low lights along the aisles dimmed. The screen that filled the room from floor to ceiling became a dark, rich, velvety blue. A giant weeping willow, its leaves illuminated by swatches of moonlight, seemed to hover over them.**

'**Booth,' Brennan breathed appreciatively, her mind instantly going back to that night outside the Blue Oyster.**

'**This was the first time we kissed.'**

'**I though we did that in my office,' Brennan shot back.**

'**Yeah. But when we kissed that night in the park, it was different you know? There wasn't anyone hacking someone else to bits. We didn't have to pretend that the case was more important. When I saw you under that tree, under that light,' Booth told her, voice low and husky as he stepped close to her till their noses were almost touching. 'That's when I knew that we were going to make it Bones.'**

**Brennan felt her heart beat faster. **

'**I think, Seeley, that you should start calling me Temperance.'**

**Bringing her lips up to his smiling mouth, Brennan wrapped her arms around his neck and remembered why crossing the line was worth it.**

'Family for Seeley Booth?'

Bringing her train of though abruptly to a halt, Brennan shot to her feet instantly. The Indian man in front of her stood in his light blue hospital scrubs, surgical mask dangling around his neck. Brennan tried to ignore the blood staining his midsection. Booth's blood.

'It's Special Agent Booth. He works with the FBI,' Brennan told him, refusing to let go of Ziva's hand. Tony still wasn't back. Neither was anyone from the Jeffersonian. Brennan wondered how long it took to get coffee and wondered why the doctor looked so severe and somber.

'I'm Dr Gupta. You're his partner?'

'I'm his girlfriend, Dr Temperance Brennan. I have power of attorney. How is he? Is he alright? When can I see him?'

Why did the doctor sound so kind, so sympathetic?

'I'm sorry Temperance.'

'What?' She sobbed out. 'Why are you apologizing? Booth is _fine_. He's being difficult, isn't he? He doesn't like hospitals. They make him petulant and he always seems to revert back to childish pouts and the paramedic before said he was going to be fine-'

'He lost a lot of blood Temperance. We tried to repair the tear near his heart but there were complications,' Dr Gupta said cautiously. 'He flat lined on the table and was unresponsive to the defibrillator and electro shock.'

_No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

'What are you saying?' Brennan wheezed. Ziva stood motionless at her side, quiet. The sound of footsteps speeding up reverberated somewhere in the back of her mind.

'Agent Booth passed away approximately five minutes Temperance. I'm so sorry.'

_He was sorry?_

'Temperance!' Why was Ziva shouting her name? Was that Tony?

Before the black rushed in all around her, and the faint outline of a weeping willow teased the darkness, Brennan could only remember one thing.

_He promised me he wouldn't leave._


	2. Chapter 2

_It's hard for me to tell you I love you_

_As I'm standing over your grave_

_And I know I'll never hear your voice again_

_Why did you leave me?_

_Why couldn't you just stay?_

_Because my world is nothin', without you_

_Now I don't know what to do, with myself_

"_**Missing You" by First Lady**_

It had been two weeks since Booth had died. Left. Gone.

She hated it. She hated herself. She hated him.

Brennan had never realized how much Booth had become a part of a life until he had been taken away from her. Her apartment, usually so bare and cold, now had a television and children's books and toys for when Parker came over. There were more pictures on the walls and around the house – not just of the squints, but of her family, of his little boy, of her and him together. A strip of black and white candid shots Booth had forced her to take now resided permanently in her wallet.

Everywhere she went, Booth lurked in the background. He was a phantom presence that haunted her every move. Even the Jeffersonian, usually her refuge, now held too many memories. Brennan spent most of her time in Limbo, consulting with the FBI only when needed. Angela and Cam would look at her with those eyes, as if they somehow could relate to what she was going through.

They couldn't. Brennan didn't even think she could.

So Brennan had done something she hadn't done in a long time – she had gotten well and truly inebriated. Normally, she despised drinking in excess. It left her feeling vulnerable, her faculties and self blurred by alcohol and not subject to control. But, she figured as she knocked back shots at the Blue Oyster, there was something to be said about numbing the pain.

The harsh buzzing sound seemed to surround her as Brennan leaned determinately into the buzzer. The weathered porch was dimly lit and she wondered briefly whether she was disturbing the neighbours. But then remembering none of them had lost the one thing connecting them to what was essentially meaningful in their lives, Brennan found she didn't care.

She pounded on the door.

_Where is he?_

No response. Just as she raised her hand to slap it against the screen door, it swung open abruptly. Swaying ever so slightly, Brennan righted herself into what she hoped was a scathing glare.

'There a reason I shouldn't be arresting you for disturbing the peace Doc?' Gibbs asked, his face mostly covered in that infernal facial hair Tony had bitingly remarked about.

'Yes,' she told him definitively, gracefully entering the premises. Feeling the world slant sideways, she stopped for a minute to gain her bearings. Gibbs sighed behind her, gently closing the door.

'You been drinking?'

'If you mean have I consumed an excessive amount of alcohol, then yes,' Brennan replied, meandering her way through the house until she reached a familiar flight of stairs that led down to the infamous basement. Carefully stepping down, and aware that Gibbs was right behind her, she finally found herself face to face with a partially completed skeleton of a boat.

'What happened to the other boat?' Brennan asked, recalling the finished vessel Gibbs had had before his trip to Mexico after the bombing.

_He left. Just like Booth._

'Got something to say Doc?' Gibbs queried, removing the suddenly inviting bottle of aged scotch from his workbench and placing it far out of her reach.

_Bastard._

'According to you, I always have something to say.'

Gibbs smiled the way that was uniquely his own. It was a small upturn of the lips, almost as if he had decided to laugh but then settled on a chuckle. His face would light up for that small moment and in that instant; you caught a glimpse of the man that would have turned out if Shannon and Kelly had lived.

Brennan wanted to smack that smile right off.

Gibbs didn't say a word, instead reaching for a piece of sandpaper and setting to work on the wooden frame.

'You left,' Brennan started, accusing.

'I did.'

'You didn't say why.'

'No, I didn't.'

'Then you came back. After just abandoning the people who care for you. Like it was normal that you embarked on some harebrained retirement venture to Mexico.'

'Wasn't normal,' Gibbs replied, tone neutral. This angered Brennan even more.

'You can't just leave Tony and all of them and just foxtrot back in as if you'd never left. Because of you, he was left second-guessing himself! Always wondering whether he measured up to what you expected him to be, never sure if he met them. That constant state of…of…' Brennan struggled, trying to find the right word. '_Questioning_, of self-doubt, is unhealthy.'

'We're _not _talking about my team,' Gibbs told her firmly. 'Not when you can't say those five dollar words you like.'

Brennan frowned. 'How is it that you and Tony are able to quantify the monetary value of the English language? Is there some kind of formulae?'

'You think Booth's disappointed.'

_Yes. Am I the person he thought he loved? Was I ever that woman? Or did his feelings make me think I was that person, that woman?_

'He isn't,' Gibbs said once it became clear that Brennan had no answer.

'How would you know? He's dead.'

'He isn't one of those skeletons where you can tell their life story by looking at their bones. You already knew his story because he chose to tell you. A man like Booth doesn't go around spilling his guts-'

Brennan winced, remembering her father's trial and the body of Deputy Director Kirby.

'Especially since he's got a lot of stories to tell.'

'So Booth is a book that I'm allowed to read?' Brennan attempted to put Gibbs' words into a recognizable analogy.

'Booth loved you. There's no denying that. You loved him.'

'What did you do when Shannon and Kelly died?' Brennan asked. She saw Gibbs stiffen, saw his blue eyes shutter. Then, after a minute, his shoulders relaxed fractionally.

'I hunted the son of a bitch down and put a bullet through his head.'

'I already shot Pam,' Brennan remarked clinically. Logically she knew she should feel remorse. If Booth were still alive, he would be blaming himself that Brennan had allowed herself to be put in that situation in the first place. They would have sat side and side and looked at Jasper.

Brennan briefly felt like Eichmann, a member of the RSHA who had justified his extermination campaign of the Jews because he was simply following Hitler's orders. He had represented the banality of evil, how it was possible for ordinary people to do such atrocious things.

But Booth wasn't here anymore, and Brennan couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for taking the woman's life.

After all, she had taken the one that mattered the most.

'Booth wouldn't have wanted you to be sitting here in my basement at two in the morning feeling sorry for yourself.'

'I should have taken that bullet Jethro,' Brennan told him softly, briefly forgetting that she was angry at the older man. 'He has a son. Parker's going to realize one day that I'm the reason he grew up without a father.'

'Hey,' Gibbs almost barked, squatting down and taking her hands. 'The Temperance Brennan I know is made of stronger stuff.'

'No,' Brennan shook her head fiercely, feeling the tears starting to build up. 'No she isn't. He was all I had. There's so much we didn't say and now I'll never get the chance. I can't keep on living this way. I need him here with me. If God is so merciful and just, why did he take Booth away?'

_What did I do to deserve this?_

'Temperance,' Gibbs murmured, obviously seeing the tears coming down her face.

'I can't stand looking at those pictures on my shelf Gibbs. I don't know what to do with myself. It just _hurts _so _much_,' she sobbed out, allowing herself to fall into the embrace offered.

She smelled sawdust and something else that was inherently Gibbs.

_Why did he take you away?_


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was a clear blue and sunlight blanketed her surroundings. Brennan looked down at her black heels and form fitting somber cut dress. Abby had insisted she wear a veil so now everywhere she looked everything was netted and spotted with black.

_The first recorded instance of veiling for women is recorded in an Assyrian legal text from the 13th century BCE, which restricted its use to noble women and forbade prostitutes and common women from adopting it._

Brennan grasped at her anthropology. Her entire body was rigid and pulled away from the small crowd that gathered for Booth's funeral. The dark, plain pine coffin lay innocuously in front of her, a priest reciting the Commital Rite. The framed picture of Booth was an official FBI portrait. It looked awkward; his charm smile in full effect except Brennan could see that he felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Someone squeezed her hand. Brennan glanced up, finding Tony's concerned face almost inches from her own.

'I didn't want to be here,' she reminded him, as if daring him to start questioning her. Tony raised an eyebrow, as if in sarcastic surprise. Something akin to déjà vu crept over her skin. For a moment, Brennan thought she had gone back in time three years ago, clutching Tony as they had watched Kate's body disappear under freshly turned earth.

'He shouldn't have taken that bullet for me,' Brennan murmured, noticing Parker standing sedately next to Rebecca. Squinting, Brennan thought they looked too…untouched by what was going on. For some reason, she half-expected Parker to be shrieking and crying in his mother's arms.

_Why aren't you?_

'But he did,' Tony responded. Out of the corner of her eye, Brennan saw Angela shoot her a look equal parts concern and hurt. Her best friend had all but forced her to attend this charade. While Brennan understood the significance that funerals bore – after all, she had paid for more than a few – _this _particular one meant affirming what she had tried to ignore the past two weeks. Nonetheless, Angela had pulled her away from the ancient skeleton Brennan had occupied herself with, choosing to disregard the circle of people that had formed part of the forensic artist's entourage. Sweets had of course tried to put in his two cents worth, which only served to aggravate her even more, before Ange had pulled her aside.

'Look, I know why you don't want to go to this thing. You've walked around this place like a zombie these past few weeks. You barely eat, you hardly sleep. And don't think I don't know where you go when you decide you actually need to look like a normal human being,' Angela had said, referring to Brennan's almost reverent pilgrimage to Booth's apartment. 'But this is the man you love. Booth would want you there. I need you there too.'

'That man needs closure too,' Brennan had mumbled unconvincingly, feeling somewhat chastised as she had seen the sheen of tears start to coalesce on Angela's dark eyes.

'Sweetie, he's been dead for five hundred years. I'm pretty sure his family's adjusted.'

So she had gone to the funeral mass, sat through something which she found unreasonable but which Booth had taken extreme comfort in. During their partnership, even after they had gotten together, Booth hadn't tried to change her mind on religion. Something about respecting her beliefs and not wanting to become like one of those hack TV evangelists. But, he had asked that she be respectful of his faith. Somehow, this wasn't quite what she had in mind. Midway through the service, however, something the minister had said had struck her.

_Welcome into your kingdom our departed brothers and sisters, and all who have left this world in your friendship. There we hope to share in your glory when every tear will be wiped away. There we hope to share in your glory when every tear will be wiped away. _

Brennan wondered if Booth was up in heaven where he belonged, finally securing the peace he deserved. She wondered if Kate was up there with him, looking down on her and the NCIS team with a fond smile. Maybe they had already seen her mother? Maybe they had seen Thomas with his wife Margaret, sipping an iced tea and rocking on a porch made out of cloud and light?

Of course, this was all entirely wishful thinking since she couldn't bring herself to believe in such things. Brennan had seen too much, experienced too much, to fully let herself completely embrace the idea that after someone had passed, they truly did leave for a better place.

All she could see were bones disintegrating, succumbing to nature's pull, dissolving into the earth.

The flag draped across pall was vivid in colour, the red, white and blue stark. An odd number of officers in pressed dress military uniform stood slightly apart from the crowd, their M16s clasped in their hands for the 3-volley salute that would occur later. Tracing her eyes over the line of men, she thought that one in particular looked familiar.

The curve of Booth's jaw would always be imprinted in her mind. She loved how his day old stubble felt whenever he kissed her, when she would softly caress the strong line of it was okay to let her guard down.

'Hey.' Tony's quiet voice startled her out of her thoughts. Chancing one last glance at the man, Brennan shook her head.

_He's dead Temperance. _

Caroline Julian asked the priest if she could say a few words. The old man looked surprised at her request, since the eulogy had already been delivered before by a downtrodden Cam.

Brennan had refused to give the address. Her hand came around the small sheet of paper she had taken to carrying around her pocket. It was the note she had written when Hodgins and herself had been buried alive. The words were too personal for her to share to a sea of people she barely knew. To those that she did, it would leave her feeling too exposed. No, Brennan would read this aloud when everyone else had departed. It was something that she needed to say, something that Booth should have heard when he was alive.

'I knew Seeley Booth. He was a good man who earned my respect and affection. And I don't like many people,' Caroline said pointedly. Brennan saw Cam resist the urge to smile at the prosecutor. 'Booth had a selfless commitment to his work, first in the military and then the FBI. Two weeks ago, he made the ultimate sacrifice – giving his life to save his partner. And in the brave act, he showed us what greatness we are all capable of.'

_Booth was more than great. He saved lives. He helped people._

_Well, he died saving you. Isn't that great too?_

_No, that was stupid_, Brennan thought, focusing on the little boy with a mop of curls and a smile that she swore was genetic. She had taken away his father. How could Parker even stand being around her, let along seeing her?

Booth had told her once about his time in Kosovo, about General Raddick and his son, how that little boy had never known who his father was. Raddick's son had been Parker's age.

'It's never just the one person who dies, Bones. Never. Never.'

Booth was right. Because she had died right alongside with him. And now Parker would never know what a good man his father was, how he had helped serve his country, kept the streets of Washington safer for people he would never know but wanted to help anyway, how he worked tirelessly everyday to tip that cosmic balance sheet, how he carried the scars and pain of the past with him everyday as a reminder of why he did what he did…

The drums started to pound.

'Stand by,' one of the officers yelled. 'At ease.'

'What the hell?' Hearing Tony's muttered oath, Brennan glanced up to see one of the officers break rank as another middle-aged man making his way towards Booth's coffin reached into his jacket for something. Immediately, the NCIS team went for their guns.

'Sir, NCIS. Put your hands where I can see them,' Tony barked out, drawing his sidearm and leveling it at the older man. The officer halted and Brennan saw a carbon copy of Booth's chin clench in irritation as Ziva, Gibbs and McGee subtly tried to form a shield against the rest of the attendees.

Just as Brennan made to move towards Parker and Rebecca, the unnamed man lunged towards the officer. The officer reacted on instinct, slamming the butt of his rifle into the man's jaw, reversing his momentum and sending him careening toward the coffin. Brennan watched wide-eyed as the casket fell to the ground, breaking apart and revealing…

Was that a stuffed dummy?

Ziva, who was now the closest, immediately tackled the man to the ground.

'Unbelievable. They couldn't even spring for a life-size replica?'

Brennan felt the blood in her veins run cold. It couldn't be. Absolutely not. It was her mind playing tricks on her.

'Agent Booth?' Zach's incredulous tone shattered all that. Brennan slowly angled her body, watching as the officer with Booth's jaw whipped his brimmed hat off. The familiar features that had haunted her thoughts, both in dreams and when she was awake, was staring morosely at the broken pine box and its upset contents.

The priest, Caroline and Cam stared as if they were seeing a mirage.

'Bones! You came,' Booth grinned.

Brennan could only gape. He was standing in front of her, shoulder and chest right as snow, as if he hadn't left her, as if he hadn't let her cry herself to what little sleep she had managed, as if he hadn't let that aching wound on her heart bleed because she thought he had died for nothing?

What she could only describe as anger suddenly engulfed her like a tsunami. It lapped and pushed and foamed as she marched over towards what she now saw was a mannequin and hefted a heavy arm into her grip.

'Temperance?' Booth sounded wary now. Unaware of everything around her, Brennan could hardly form words, let alone give voice to them.

'You _asshole_,' was all she managed to spit out. Booth's face crumpled.

'You haven't seen me for two weeks and-'

Tony's fist collided with Booth's cheek, sending the FBI agent to the floor.

Brennan shot the Italian a look, watching as he shook out his fist.

Tossing the arm at Booth, who was on the ground groaning, she was satisfied to hear it thud solidly against his midsection.

GSW be damned.

He had lied to her.

Sending Booth one last scathing glare, she left.

After all, it wasn't like he hadn't done it to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: and so here goes the hardest chapter I've even had to write (so far). Enjoy!**

'The only reason why I'm not laying you flat on your ass is because I have more important things to do right now,' Booth said, rubbing his jaw and fixing Tony with the steeliest look he could manage before haring off after his girlfriend.

After two weeks spent cooped up inside a safe house with only Charlie and stale take-out for company, not to mention the physical therapy he had had to undergo after the operation on his shoulder, the sight of Brennan's face carved in anger was _not _exactly the homecoming he had in mind.

'Bones!' He called out after her, forcing his legs to pump faster even though he could already start to feel his shoulder twinge in protest.

'Go to hell Booth.' Her words were venomous.

'What the hell? You haven't seen me in two weeks and the first thing you do is wail on me?' Booth retorted, finally catching up to her. Behind him, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Rebecca crouching down beside Parker. Ziva had hefted the suspect to his feet, violently slapping on the cuffs and shoving him towards the suits that had emerged from the crowd.

Brennan spun around so fast her arm almost made contact with his face again. Her hair flying around her face, her cheeks flushed and red, her blue eyes blazing, Booth thought she looked beautiful. At least until she opened her mouth.

'How _dare _you!'

'How dare I what?' Booth asked in exasperation, wondering why she was so angry in the first place. Hadn't she already spoken with Sweets?

'You _left _me for two weeks, just…_suspended _and caught in this state of…' A noise of frustration escaped her, loud and sharp. 'And then you act as if none of this happened? And you question what's wrong with _me_?'

'Hey, I didn't leave you alright? Like Sweets told you-'

'Excuse me?'

Booth gave her a puzzled look, aware that she was still somewhat agitated. While Tony's fist had definitely left a mark, Booth was sure Brennan's would be twice as painful.

'Sweets told you I was undercover, didn't he? Which was why I couldn't call you and-'

'_Sweets was supposed to_ _tell me that you were undercover_?' Brennan hissed out, her eyes turning into tiny slits. Booth tentatively reached for her shoulder and was annoyed when she stepped away from his hand.

'Yes,' Booth said, trying to keep his hackles from rising. 'Boy wonder was supposed to tell you about the guy with this major beef against me. After I got shot, Cullen thought staging this thing would help flush him out.'

'You made me think you were dead so you could help catch someone with carnivorous intentions towards you?' Her question was soft, so soft it almost sounded ominous.

_Wait. Dead?_

'Dead?' Booth repeated stupidly.

_That can't be right. The list I gave Sweets had Bones right at the top. Well, next to Parks of course._

'Excuse me. I need to converse with Dr Sweets,' Brennan said tightly, pushing him aside none too gently and narrowing in on the young psychologist who, to Booth, was looking increasingly uncomfortable. Feeling slightly queasy, Booth followed, ignoring the open-mouthed stares he was receiving from the Jeffersonian and some of the NCIS team.

'Dr Sweets, Agent Booth-'

Booth winced at Brennan's tone. She had used that similar one when they had first started working together, and she had regarded him with a slight measure of contempt.

'- informs me that you were given a supposed list by the FBI of people to notify of Agent Booth's apparently illusory demise,' she finished, hands on hips and fixing Sweets with her undivided attention.

'Daddy!' His son's voice was the only warning he received before the little boy launched himself into his father's arms, wrapping himself so tightly around Booth that it was almost difficult to breathe.

'Hey lil' man!' Booth managed to squeeze out. 'It would help if Daddy could breathe Parks.'

'You know Dr Brennan, you're actually upset because you had to face strong emotions that you'd rather deny. Striking Agent Booth, indicated the depth of your feelings for him. It was a very passionate act.' Booth started to feel queasy again, not to mention the alarm bells going off in his head. He noticed a deflection tactic when he saw one, and Sweets had used one that was practically textbook.

'Why is Dr Bones mad? Is it because she couldn't see you too while you were hunting bad guys?' Parker asked innocently.

'Something like that Parks.' Booth looked over and caught Rebecca's eye, shooting her a pleading look. It wasn't that he was unhappy to see his son – god, he wished he could hold Parker like this for forever – but Brennan needed him right now. His ex nodded, reaching over to take Parker from his arms.

'Hey buddy, I'll see you tonight alright? Right now, Bones and I need to talk about something first. Work stuff,' Booth told his son in a low voice.

'You promise?' The dejection in his son's voice tore at Booth.

'I promise. Hey, if it's okay with your mum, we'll even have ice-cream,' Booth said, flashing his eyes up at the mother of his son.

'You'll see your father tonight Parker. C'mon,' Rebecca cajoled. Parker released his hold on his father, casting his eyes over at Sweets and Brennan as their voices grew steadily louder.

'I'll come by around seven,' Booth whispered.

'That's fine. For what it's worth Seeley, I'm glad you're alright.' Watching the blonde walk off with his son in her arms, Booth paused for a moment to wonder what his life could have been like if Rebecca had decided to marry him.

'So you _chose _not to tell me? Why?' Brennan demanded, stepping closer towards Sweets, who inched nervously backwards as he stuttered out his answer.

'It was a matter of national security. The…the fewer people who knew the better. And let's face it Dr Brennan, you have this wicked ability to compartmentalize. In my professional opinion, I thought you could handle Agent Booth's death.'

'Wait a minute-' Booth began heatedly, pressing forward only to be stopped in his tracks by Brennan's words.

'He took a bullet that was meant _for me_ and you _let me _think he was _dead _for _two weeks _because it was based on a professional opinion formed using highly variable and unscientific evidence?' Brennan responded before pausing. Booth watched as her eyebrows raised and then lowered, her brow puckering in the middle.

'You think I don't recognize an experiment when I see one? You experimented on us.'

_He did what?_

Someone gasped and Hodgins whistled.

'Not telling me Booth was alive? You wanted to quantify our reactions for your own research? You took advantage of us. Booth and I agreed to let you observe us. We did not agree to be used as lab rats,' Brennan spat out.

'Dr Brennan-'

'No. Right now I'm restraining the urge to use physical violence. Anything you say will break that.'

'You _experimented _on us?' Booth growled.

'I wouldn't call it an experiment…' Sweets tried to defend himself.

'This isn't some kind of joke. I trusted you to do one thing. And you blew it. Not only did you think for some deluded reason it was okay to let my partner think I was _dead_ for _two fucking weeks_, you've got the balls to stand in front of the two of us and spout off BS about compartmentalization and how you _thought _she could handle it?' Booth thought he could see flecks of spittle fly out of his mouth as he yelled. The blood was roaring in his head, and he swore everything around was tinged with a dull red.

Sweets remained quiet, cheeks flushed and eyes lowered to the ground.

'In your _professional opinion_,' Booth sounded the words as if they were dirty, 'does that sound even remotely okay to you Sweets? _Does it_?'

Sweets shook his head.

Booth could feel the darkness he had fought to keep from coming out slowly finding its way to the surface. Before he had joined the Rangers, those shadows had hung over him like a cloud. His father, the booze, Jared, his mother. Then the years spent as a sniper had intensified those demons, ionizing them and making them more solid. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that little boy scream as his father slumped to the floor, leaking out blood. The anger that swelled to the surface whenever he found a suspect with that depraved, knowing glint in his eye, the ones who _enjoyed _killing…

It made him afraid he was becoming like his father.

Clenching his fists so tightly the veins in his arms stood out, Booth lowered his head as he stood toe to toe with Sweets, hoping that whatever he said couldn't be heard.

'I've killed a lot of men in my life Sweets. You know. You've read my file. Most of them were sick, twisted, narcissistic bastards who deserved having a bullet drilled between their eyes. You may not be a sociopath or a military general accused of war crimes, but I've been around long enough to understand the reasons behind mind games.

'Do you know what'd Cullen have to say when I tell him you've chosen to _experiment _on the partnership with the highest damn close rate in the entire country? You can shrink our heads all you want Sweets, but nowhere is using _my partner_ as a fucking _guinea pig_ part of your job description!' Booth heaved in a ragged breath.

Someone closed their arm over his bicep. Booth heard Brennan murmur his name soothingly, heard how quiet everyone had become. Abandoning the pretense of privacy, Booth glared at the psychologist.

'I've been psychologically mindfucked by people who haven't lasted long enough to tell anyone about it. You're a fucking _amateur _compared to them. This was your one and only 'get out of jail free' cards Sweets. If you _ever_, _ever _decide to pull this kind of shit on my partner, or any of these people here, there won't be a corner small enough for you to hide in,' Booth ground out, feeling his molars pound against each other. The muscles in his jaw jumped.

'Booth. C'mon,' Brennan hummed, pulling his arm gently. His eyes not leaving Sweets, whose own had widened almost comically, Booth said the last thing he needed to say.

'I'd suggest making yourself scarce. And _if_ I decide I want to see your face again, you better be the brown nosing kiss ass in class who wants that fucking gold star on his forehead.'

Booth watched appreciatively as Sweets adam's apple bobbed convulsively.

Finally allowing himself to be led away, Booth was relieved to note that Brennan hadn't dropped his arm.

'Bones?'

'I'm still mad at you Booth. Mostly Sweets, but there is still some residual-'

'I missed you too,' Booth murmured. Noticing that they were almost to his SUV – seeing the keys in Brennan's hands, he realized with a start she must have driven it here instead of her own car – and that everyone else was far, far away, Booth did the one thing he had been longing to do for fourteen days and twelve and a half hours.

Grasping her chin firmly between his palms, he lowered his lips to hers. Feeling her respond, his shoulders relaxed and he felt his muscles become less tense.

_No pain, no gain? Yeah, right._


	5. Chapter 5

Having Booth back was surreal. And if there was one thing Temperance Brennan hated more than anything, it was the inability to comprehend something.

Days had crept by since Booth's return from the dead. Since the kiss they had shared after his confrontation with Sweets, Brennan had only managed to see her boyfriend for a few minutes. Not only had Gormagon come back, and Zach still acting so much unlike himself but between Parker, paperwork and his mandatory debriefing with Cullen, Brennan was torn between feeling relieved and anxious that Booth wasn't at her side.

It wasn't through lack of trying on his part. Brennan had felt the walls shoot up around her the minute she had seen him remove that hat off his head. She recalled seeing him smile warmly at her, eyes twinkling, as the broken casket remained in pieces in the grass beside him. In that moment, that one perfect moment, her heart had stopped and her line of vision had tunneled until all she could see was Booth.

A gloriously _alive_ Booth.

Despite knowing what Sweets had done, Brennan couldn't help but feeling somewhat betrayed by Booth's omission to inform her himself personally of his covert operation. Didn't she merit something of that kind? In all honesty, Brennan had expected it of him. Whether it was her emotions clouding her rational thought she couldn't say. All she knew, all she felt, was that Booth _should _have told her himself. Not left it up to some unethical psychologist who relished in using his patients as case studies.

A dark scowl formed over her face as Brennan remembered the way Booth had practically pressed his face into Sweets, the younger man instinctually trying to fold himself in half to avoid Booth's intimidating stature. It was hard not to admit how attractive Booth was whenever he felt the need to lapse into his alpha male persona – something she would never say out loud – but this time, Brennan hadn't derived the sort of pleasure she felt she would have from this display.

_Booth is alive. Shouldn't you be happy? The last two weeks can be buried in the past. Another forgotten memory that you can laugh about in a few years._

That was the heart of it all, wasn't it? No matter how much she loved Booth, and no matter how much what had happened could be attributed to Sweets' duplicity, what remained was that _Booth hadn't told her._ That hole in her heart was still there, festering like an infected wound, and while the joy and the unmistakable _relief _she was feeling knowing that Booth was here, was solid and corporeal and not buried in the ground, was so overwhelming at times it felt like she couldn't breathe…somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that he hadn't bothered to check with Sweets, with anyone else, with _her_, that she had been notified.

_It's part of the job Temperance. You know that. Maybe his access to communication was restricted and he was unable to reach you. Or maybe he tried to call you and you didn't pick up. But he didn't leave a voice message. Really? Revealing his location over an unsecured channel simply because it'd make _you_ feel better? When did we start becoming so selfish?_

Groaning, Brennan allowed her head to hang over the edge of the couch in her office. The door was locked, the blinds shut almost all the way. The lights from the platform reflected dimly on the floor. In the distance, the squeaking of the bucket as Fred mopped down the area after hours. Glancing at the clock, Brennan was startled to realize how late it was. All the better. Eleven at night. No one needed to know how long she had been sitting there, case file opened before her like a prop, moping.

A knock at the door made her head shoot up like a shot. Warily, she got to her feet. Swallowed. She recognized that pattern. One long rap, followed by two in rapid staccato, then another long one. There was only one person in the world who had it. Adjusting her lab coat, briefly ruffling the papers on the table to look like they had been read, Brennan strode over and unlocked the door.

'Hey Bones,' Booth said, eyeing her almost nervously, as if he expected her to hit him. As much as it hurt, her anger towards him had flared and died out the minute she had thrown that arm at him. There were some people, according to Tony, you could never stay mad at for long.

'You'll forgive them sure. No point holding a grudge. What's the point? But you'll never forget. And that, Tempe, is what makes life so interesting,' her friend had told her with a half-hearted smile when Gibbs had returned from Mexico.

'Booth,' she said his name, giving him a look that told him that she wasn't sure what to make of his presence. 'I thought you had Parker tonight?'

'I did,' he said simply, still keeping his eyes fixed upon her. Brennan stood still, tilting her head slightly to the side. 'Bec's letting me have him this weekend instead.'

'Is something wrong?' Brennan asked, feeling worry shoot up her spine. 'Is he alright?'

'Parks is fine,' he hurriedly reassured her, hands still in his pockets. Brennan noted how he didn't reach for her like he normally did. She had long ago come to realize that Booth touched her because it brought him a measure of comfort that she was there by his side. He had told her once, somewhat sheepishly, that he liked the way she felt underneath him. How her skin was smooth and so white and how the contrast with his own tanned, callused skin fascinated him.

Booth seemed to pause, drawing in a breath. His posture stiffened somewhat, as if he was gearing himself up for a fight.

Brennan felt her stomach squeeze. She had been expecting this really. Was surprised he hadn't come to her beforehand. He had noticed the way Brennan had closed herself off to him. Not only physically, but emotionally as well. It was unintentional, she had told herself. A subconscious reaction to what had occurred.

'He misses Dr Bones though. And so do I,' Booth finally said. His words hung there between them, taunting her.

'I'm right here Booth,' she said, trying to feign ignorance. It had been easier before Booth had wormed his way under her skin to brush off things due to her lack of contemporary vernacular. Now, though, it was a different story.

'God Temperance,' her name was said in exasperation. 'Don't you think I know when you've decided to pull yourself away from me? I know you like the back of my hand.'

'I haven't…'

'You _have_,' Booth insisted, staring at her unflinchingly. They hadn't moved. Both of them still poised in the threshold of the doorway. Fred cast them both an enquiring look as he moved further away before resuming his methodical task.

'I thought you said you weren't mad anymore.'

'I'm not,' Brennan whispered, feeling her energy start to leech out. 'You know I can never stay angry at you for long.

'Then what is it? It's like you're _tolerating_ me Bones!' Booth shot out, throwing his hands up in the air. 'You'd think that after realizing that I'm not dead, you'd be a little bit more-'

Whatever she had kept suppressed was boiling now. She had been a quiet child before her parents had left. A few months into foster care, with Charlie and Miguel, had turned her into a spitfire as Thomas liked to say. Brennan grew a backbone, thickened her skin, reinforced her shields. She thought age would have made that temper simmer, cool down into a low flame. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm.

'I'm sorry if my reception hasn't met up to your standards. But _you _were the one who didn't have to spend the last two weeks _knowing _that the man you loved was dead because of you!' She shouted, feeling the control over her emotions fray and detach.

Booth's face drained of some of its colour. 'But I'm _not_ Bones,' he pressed. He reached for her and like at the cemetery, knowing what his touch did for him and to her, she moved out of grasp. That same expression coloured his features, this time tinged with hurt. 'I'm not dead.'

'But you were to me. I had to go on knowing that you weren't going to be there when I needed you to be. I had to go back to an empty apartment and see all those pictures everywhere. God Booth, when they asked if I wanted pie at the diner I cried. I actually _cried_.' She was crying now, she could tell. Her cheeks were cool against the breeze and felt sticky. The pained look on Booth's face wasn't helping.

'And I understand why you didn't tell me. I've worked with the government enough to understand the meaning of national security. I do.'

'Then if you understand why I couldn't tell you, what's _wrong_?' Booth asked, his voice desperate. 'Back at the-' Booth's words faltered. 'Back when you saw me, you said you were okay with it.'

'I thought I could compartmentalize,' she said the last word as if it were diseased, knowing Sweets had said the same thing when he had explained why he hadn't informed her. 'I thought I could look at this logically and try and _understand_. But this time, my mind's put itself in neutral and my heart's shifted into overdrive,' she told him, repeating the words he had said to her during her father's trial.

'No matter how hard I try, there's something inside me that's telling me that you've betrayed me in some way,' she finally managed to choke out, struggling to explain coherently what she was feeling. 'You've broken protocol before Booth. Why didn't you do it this time? Why didn't you at least make sure Sweets had done his job?'

'Bones-'

'You _left_ Booth. The one thing you said you'd never do. After Mum and Dad and Russ, god even after Miguel, you were the one person in my life that I thought I could count on.'

'That's not fair and you know it,' Booth said, his voice low. 'You know if you'd been called out by the CIA, and they'd told you this was need to know, you would have gone without even a word.'

The silence that followed was damning. It was true, she conceded. She knew what working with those agencies entailed. She had spent a considerable amount of time navigating through the murky waters of not only intelligence organizations, but also Foggy Bottom. Diplomats, far from being ready to compromise, often wanted their way or nothing at all. It was aggravating.

'I'm a hypocrite. I know. But I can't…I can't _help it_! This is all your fault! Before you came along I didn't have to deal with all this…this-'

'I'm sorry that I made you feel Bones,' Booth remarked wryly. This time when he reached for her, she allowed him to. Almost immediately she was in his arms, head resting just where his heart was. The steady rhythm soothed her much like it did all those nights when they fell asleep in each others arms.

'No matter how much I apologize, it's not going to be enough is it? I didn't want things to turn out the way they did. Maybe I should have tried harder, but you know I never wanted you to have to go through what you did.'

'I know,' Brennan said, feeling remorseful. 'You don't deserve this but it's just how I feel.' She felt him press his cheek into the top of her head.

'But-'

Booth wasn't the only one who could read the other like a book. 'I could never hate you Booth. I love you too much.'

A beat, a few thumps of his heart. His fingers stroking the outside of her bicep.

'But we'll still will hold right?' His question was almost tentative, as if he was unsure of her answer. Hesitant and fearful that she would say no, much like that time on the bench as he had handed her coffee.

It still marveled her that she held such sway over him.

It also left her in awe how much power he had over her.

'We're the centre.' She pressed herself more firmly into his embrace. This man had become her everything and no matter how hard she tried, he had become too intertwined for her to reject him.

Because that would mean forcefully removing a part of herself.

'No matter what, we'll always hold.'

Feeling his lips against her forehead, knowing how hard it was going to be to get back to where they were, Brennan knew that she meant every word.


	6. Chapter 6

_Amy says she's all alone  
Says the world doesn't even know  
About the pain she hides inside  
Says happiness is just a lie_

I see her laughing at the rain that hits her face  
With her arms stretched open soaking in the love  
In a world she found so hard she finds so beautiful  
There's a hope in you deep inside for me

She can hear you breathing softly  
Your words echo in her mind  
And your words are clear  
And she knows that you are here  
You are here

"**Amy Says" by Flyleaf**

It had been a few weeks since his funeral, and a week before they both had to be in London. She had said that they were the centre, that they would hold. And they had. The smiles, the confused furrow, the slant of her head to the side when she was trying to perceive what that anomaly on the bone was.

So why did it feel to Booth like they were slowly and steadily orbiting out of each other's path?

He watched his girlfriend across the room; saw her laugh out loud at something Ducky had said, Palmer and McGee both smiling as well. Hodgins and Angela were cocooned in their own little world on one of Brennan's armchairs, while Gibbs listened to a wildly gesticulating Abby. Cam and Ziva stood off in a quiet corner, heads bent and voices low.

'Yeah, I'd worry about that too,' Tony remarked, following Booth's line of thought. Glancing to his side, the Italian took a sip from the glass he had in his hand. Booth flexed his jaw instinctively, remembering the hit the NCIS agent had managed to sneak in what felt like a lifetime ago.

'DiNozzo,' Booth said curtly, nodding once before deciding that he needed a beer. Slipping away in what he hoped was a polite fashion, Booth meandered through the small crowd towards the kitchen, noticing how Brennan kept shooting him what she must think were covert glimpses.

Yeah. He _really _needed something with a buzz.

'You wanna talk about it?'

Slamming the refridgerator door with a bit more force than was necessary, Booth twisted the cap off the bottle, biting down on his tongue.

'Sorry about that, by the way. Not that you didn't deserve it but still…' Tony trailed off, swiping his hand over his cheek.

Booth could feel his teeth grind against each other audibly.

'Bygones be bygones right?' Booth retorted.

Bad enough he had reduced his girlfriend to tears, pretty much all but dug the trench between him and Brennan and got hauled into Cullen's office for a rather mild chewing out regarding his conduct towards Sweets, but now he had the Italian lothario wanting to go all Dr Phil on his ass?

Thanks, but no thanks.

'Look Booth, I was starting to like you. Fact of the matter is, after seeing the hell Tempe went through before you resurrected like a bad extra on the Night of the Living Dead, your stock plummeted like Wall Street.' Tony's eyes hardened, the mirth previously twinkling in them abruptly extinguished.

'Now I know that kid shrink screwed the pooch, but so did you.'

'You don't think I know that?' Booth bit out, pulling himself up to his full height and looking Tony dead in the eye.

'No,' Tony said, shaking his head languidly. 'No I think you do. Anyone a mile a way can see that you're carrying around guilt so heavy that you look like Atlas.'

The sounds from the living room drifted through, wrapping around them. Booth brought the bottle to his lips, taking a drag.

The guilt _was _eating away at him, like a parasite that had dug its claws underneath his epidermis and refused to let go. Everytime he saw Brennan, noted how her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, how sometimes at night, when she thought he was asleep, she would roll away from him…

Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'Just say what you gotta say DiNozzo. I'm not in the mood for mind games,' Booth said sarcastically.

'Temp put you on a pedestal Booth,' Tony started bluntly. This made Booth pause. 'She's never had anyone treat her the way you do. You come in, spouting off about love and joy and that fairytale romance and she just eats it up.'

_I think I love you Seeley. It's not quantifiable or even grounded in any kind of empirical proof, but I think I do._

'So she thinks maybe, just maybe, you're the one guy who isn't going to let her down. Then you did and now, well,' Tony shrugs his shoulders, 'she doesn't know how to handle that.'

'She's always telling me how I should be more rational, listen to reason,' Booth murmured.

Tony gave him a tight smile. 'You've let her down, made her cry and made her wonder if you'll ever leave her again. But the one thing I don't think she's doubted is the way you feel about her.'

'If I could turn back time-'

'But you can't,' Tony shot back. 'I'm not trying to be all doom and gloom here but let's look at this in a more…positive way. Every couple's going to have their own personal path of self-discovery. Nothing in the manual's ever been written about coming back from the dead though. Then again, Temp always was one to be different.'

Booth remained quiet, seeing the other man's eyes cloud over with regret. Booth had heard bits and pieces about Tony's undercover op for the Director. The FBI had been consulted briefly and hearing DiNozzo's name being mentioned, he had quietly managed to glean bits and pieces from old friends about what was going down. The op had been watertight though, and what Booth had managed to learn was probably inconsequential in the long run.

What he did know, without a shadow of a doubt, was that Anthony DiNardo was blurring the line between fiction and reality. After a frantic Brennan had heard about Tony's car going up in flames on the street, Booth had learned about The Frog turning up dead in marina and Jeanne Benoit vanishing without a trace. His girlfriend had remained tightlipped about Tony's feelings toward Jeanne but looking at Tony now, the regret painted starkly across his face, Booth felt like he already knew the answer to that question.

'But hey, what do I know right?' Tony chuckled weakly, staring down at his drink. His thumb rubbed against the condensation absently, other hand curled tightly around the stone countertop.

'Temp still thinks she's alone out there in the big bad world, and that this straw house she's built with you is gonna come crashing down around her once the wolf decides that she's gotten more than she deserves,' Tony remarked cynically. 'Can't say I blame her, considering.'

Booth saw Tony place his tumbler into the sink, not before pouring away its contents with an almost religious devotion.

'But you, you give her hope man. She sees that inside of you. Just make her believe that again.'

Tony patted him on the shoulder with an open palm, smiling widely at Brennan as she poked her head through the open archway. Brennan followed Tony as he walked past her, whistling softly.

'Is everything alright Booth?' Brennan asked, her forehead crinkling ever so slightly and her mouth forming the beginnings of a pout.

_No actually, it's not._

But despite the distance, despite everything that had happened between them, she was still smiling.

_I give her hope huh, DiNozzo?_

'You know what Bones? Everything's going to be just fine,' Booth said.

'I don't know what that means.'

'Neither do I Bones. Neither do I,' Booth answered, looping an arm over her shoulder and pressing her to his side.

Feeling her relax against him, Booth thought that maybe, just maybe, that gulf they had both caused could be bridged bit by little bit.

Because for everything they did that would tear at each other, and for all that they were and how hard they tried, they would say they're sorry now.

And after that, the centre would hold.


	7. Author's Note

**The Triquel to Red Shoes will be up sooner rather than later. I've been down with a bug so bear with me.**

**I have been nominated for an NCIS Fanfiction award (best crossover). I am trying to contain my excitement! The link is posted on my Profile page if you want to show your support. **

**Xoxo,**

**Alien09**


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